


i know

by brahe



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Basically there's a lot of emotions, But with new dialogue, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of into darkness, The drinking scene in beyond, kind of stream of consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:52:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7729324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brahe/pseuds/brahe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He gave it his best shot and he succeeded, only it wasn't the kind of success you celebrate. It was the kind of success you work to erase, the kind that keeps you up at night. Because James Tiberius Kirk died at the age of 26, three years younger than his father, and yet he's outlived George Kirk by a year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i know

**Author's Note:**

> this will probably be the last fic for a few weeks, uni starts in two days so we'll see how that adjustment goes.  
> anyway, this mostly came from me wanting to write the line "you gave it your best shot" in response to Kirk's "one more year than he got to be" line in beyond. I have a lot of feelings.

The stars are blurs as they pass outside the window. Jim sighs.

"One year older," he says, looking into his glass as if it holds all the answers he's searching for. "One more year than he got to be."

"Well, can't say you didn't try," Bones says, and downs his drink. "Gave it your best shot, that's for sure," he adds, and his voice gets rough and low. It's the tone Jim knows he reserves for things like bad news and things that are too serious to talk about without a drink first.

Jim tilts his head, lifts his glass. They're surrounded by ghosts, haunted by memories that lie in wait like monsters under a bed.

"What can I say," Jim says, but the shrug that usually accompanies the phrase is missing. This is the most they've talked about it, the most they've ever acknowledged it, and it hurts. Hurts like nothing else does, because he died, he honest-to-god died, and sometimes thinking about it makes his chest heavy and his heart ache.

Bones is looking at him, worry creasing his face.

"How about," he starts, slow and hesitant as if he's afraid the words he's about to say will send Jim running. Like that could ever happen. "How about you say it won't happen again?"

It's about more than his death, now. It's about every time he throws himself off the edge, every time he puts himself on the line. It's about every time he scares Bones out of his mind with the possibility that this time, it'll be the end.

Bones takes a breath, and Jim hates the way it shakes, hates the way that it's his fault.

"I don't want to have to think that every conversation we have might be the last," he says, and it's so quiet Jim nearly misses it.  
Jim can't help but think back to that last conversation they had, the one that could've been the last, would have been the last, if fate was allowed to run its course. The familiar ache starts up in his chest.

He opens his mouth to promise, because he doesn't wish this pain on anyone, not ever, but the words are stuck in his throat. He wants to agree to this more than anything else, but he can't lie, not to Bones.

"I love you," he says instead, because that's the truth. Maybe it makes it all worse, because the smile on Bones's face looks like a sad one, but maybe it doesn't, because then he's reaching across the bar and pulling Jim's hand into his own, lacing their fingers together.

"I know," Bones says.

Jim looks at their hands, thinks about how right this feels, and he can't fight the guilt. For this, he wants to do better, but a promise is a tricky thing.

"I don't know if I can," Jim says, and it's hard to admit, but he won't lie.

"I know," Bones says again, and maybe that hurts more than dying ever could.

Bones is looking at their hands now, too, and Jim squeezes, just a little. Bones's eyed flick up to his and he holds his gaze.

"I can't live without you," Jim says. He watches as a strange, sad looks comes over Bones's face.

"I know," he says a third time, and this time Jim knows he's talking about himself. Because, unlike Jim, he knows what it feels like to exist in a world without the other half of his heart, still feels the break like it's fresh and won't ever leave.

"You're not allowed to leave me," Bones says. Jim thinks about every away mission and how it feels to know for certain that there's someone waiting for him to come back. It's a strange feeling, and he smiles.

"I know."


End file.
